


don't try suicide

by ScrabbleSense



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrabbleSense/pseuds/ScrabbleSense
Summary: He feels so out of it, he can’t tell if the water is freezing cold or boiling hot on his skin; all he knows is it stings just enough to make him wince and look up.He catches his reflection in the mirror, if only for a moment, and has to hold back a sob.When Freddie said he was bleeding, Jesus did he mean it.At some point he must’ve wiped his face; there’s blood below his eye and on the bridge of his nose and it’s dry. There’s blood dried in the ends of his hair and by his earlobe; and there’s blood on his hands – not that he couldn’t see that before.He’s so pale, paler than ever before. Without his shirt on he can see the barrage of healed scars running down his sickly-thin sides and on his shoulders.He shakes his head, willing himself not to throw up, and goes back to cleaning.





	1. Brian

He knows his friends better than he knows himself, he thinks.

He looks in the mirror and has to hold back from shattering it; the reflection taunting him with its pure ugliness. He hates seeing what he is.

He misses them already.

Freddie is so unlike anyone he’s ever met. He’s all the best and boldest qualities of a person wrapped into one. His smile can stop traffic and his voice – the voice that captures millions day after day after day – God, his voice is like cold champagne and a warm summer breeze. There’s a feeling that it evokes in him, he thinks – and it’s somewhere between sadness and content.

Roger can be a bit of a twat, but all brothers argue, and he and Brian are no different. They fight, they hug, they make up. He likes, in times like these, to think of his favorite memories. He thinks of the day Rog joined, the day they first met back in college. He thinks of Rogers’ haircut, Rogers’ smile, Rogers’ hands…

Deaky’s a sweetie, and he likes the slant rhyme. He’s a quiet man, Brian knows. He doesn’t say much, but when he does he’s the funniest person Brian knows. Brian really does love him, sees him almost like a little brother. His heart hurts when he thinks of what this could do to the poor man. He’s fragile, Brian thinks.

Too fragile for Brian to kill himself and not expect to wake up in heaven with Deaky next to him.

He’s a goner, that boy.

Brian’s mouth tastes like cigarettes and alcohol. He coughs over the sink, his knuckles going white as he grips the sides. Blood drips from his wrists as he sighs, soaking the forearms of his shirt and his hands crimson. Sighing, he goes to wash down the streak of red with the rush of water out of the tap.

A bang echoed through the small bathroom, and Brian’s heart jumped into his throat; his back slamming against the wall next to the toilet as his long legs tripped and tangled.

“Bri, you’ve been in there for almost a half hour now!” Rog’s voice bashed through his skull like a sledgehammer, and the ringing in his ears stopped to let him hear the muffled bass and cheering of people coming from the party. “Freddie’s wondering where you’ve run off to!”

Brian looked around at his surroundings, taking a second to steady his breath; forcing down the bile rising in his throat.

“I’m-” He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I’m coming, Rog. Just- Just gimmie’ a sec.”

Rog didn’t make any more noise, but the sound of a woman giggling echoed through the hall as his footsteps retreated.

Brain ran a sweaty hand over his forehead, closing his eyes for a while. God, he must’ve looked like shit; so pale, skinnier than he’s ever been…

He knew they were worried; something was off with him and had been for months, and God if even _he_ knew what it was then maybe he could fix all this, but no… He didn’t know, and they were still stuck worrying over him.

He knew it didn’t matter though.

He didn’t even remember unlocking the bathroom door.

At some point, he’s in the small hallway outside the bathroom with a scarily blank look on his face, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Darling, are you all right?” Freddie’s eyebrows are knit together in worry as Brian meets his gaze, and Brian feels his mind sort of swell as it kicks back into gear.

“I’m ill.” He sniffs, glancing to the door at the end of the hallway. “Think I’m going back.”

Freddie stops him as he tries to move, however, and Brian only feels his heart sink further.

“You’re bleeding…” It’s quiet as Freddie reaches to touch Brian’s sleeves gently, but Brian only flinches away.

“I’m fine, Freddie.” He pushed past Freddie with ease and grabbed his coat from the rack before leaving, slinking it on to hide any evidence.

His brain forced itself back into autopilot, and, once more, he felt nothing.

All he knew was that it was loud and incredibly – stiflingly hot – and then silent and very cold. His shoes were quickly sodden from the snow, but if he was going to give into the cold so easily he might as well say to hell with it and give up on the plan itself.

Tonight was not a night for thinking, tonight was not for him.

It was for his greatest performance yet, his final solo.

The man opening the door for him at the hotel knew him by name – asked him if he was alright. Brian knew he was shivering now, and could feel how soaked his hair was, but his skin was so, so stuffy and hot that he didn’t even glance up from the floor.

His shirt is drenched and freezing – even more so now that the once sticky-hot sweat that coated it had chilled against his skin in the night air.

His hands fumble with the key-card, and his vision slowly slides in and out of focus as he enters the hotel room.

They’ve cleaned while he was away. It smelled nicer than before.

A heavy sigh echoed through the room and it takes him a moment to realize it was him who elicited it.

The jacket came off, and his sleeves were visibly drenched in red.

‘ _If you don’t clean them they’ll get infected_.’ He thinks.

The bathroom is small, there’s a nice shower that he hasn’t had time to use and the toilet stops the door from shutting properly, but all in all it’s okay.

Not, however, a good place to find a body.

It’ll have to do, though, thinks Brian as he sheds his shirt.

The cuts aren’t as deep as they could have been, he’s not glad for that.

He feels so out of it, he can’t tell if the water is freezing cold or boiling hot on his skin; all he knows is it stings just enough to make him wince and look up.

He catches his reflection in the mirror, if only for a moment, and has to hold back a sob.

When Freddie said he was bleeding, Jesus did he mean it.

At some point he must’ve wiped his face; there’s blood below his eye and on the bridge of his nose and it’s dry. There’s blood dried in the ends of his hair and by his earlobe; and there’s blood on his hands – not that he couldn’t see that before.

He’s so pale, paler than ever before. Without his shirt on he can see the barrage of healed scars running down his sickly-thin sides and on his shoulders.

He shakes his head, willing himself not to throw up, and goes back to cleaning.

A new shirt and a few bandages later, he feels like it’s time.


	2. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So no, John's not stupid. But yes, he is very, very scared.

He’s hyper-aware of the fact that Brian had left for the bathroom almost 20 minutes ago, and hadn’t yet come back.

He can see Freddie from where he is, and he’s dancing his heart out with a huge smile on his face and booze in his hand. He can see Roger too, but he’s much calmer – leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed as he chats up a very pretty brunette.

He bites the inside of his cheek, and tells the girl that’s dancing with him to ‘Hold on, I’ll be back in a sec’.

“Go find him.” He warns Roger. “Something’s wrong.”

Roger gives him a nasty look for tearing him away from the girl, but obliges nonetheless, seeing the real fear in John’s eyes.

“Says he’ll only be a minute.” The blonde comes back shrugging, looking dissatisfied that Brian was simply in the bathroom – the tone John’s voice had, poor Roger thought Brian to be dead.

John sighs, nodding slightly as he chews his lip. 

Roger simply smirked, clapping John on the back, making him almost fall forward.

“Hey, we were thinking of taking this party back to Fred’s?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows to Deaky and nodding his head towards the blonde woman dancing on his left. “You comin’?”

“What about Brian?” John asks.

“Told you; he’s fine!” His speech is slurred, and John feels slightly sick. “Freddie’s gone to ask him to come with us. Look, there he is!”

And over waltzes Freddie, a confused look on his shiny face.

“Brian’s left.”

John’s heart sunk.

“What?!”

Freddie shrugged. “He was bleeding – I think he got in a fight.”

Rog just makes a face like ‘What’re you going to do?’, and follows Freddie as they lead almost everyone from the party to the outdoors with a loud cheer and raised fists full of full champagne flutes.

John wasn’t stupid.

Quiet, sure. Funny? Very.

But stupidity was not one of the things he often associated himself with.

He knew what hit Brian hardest. He knew his moods better than most in the band, he knew the pits he’d get himself into and then slowly – ever so slowly – pull himself out.

More importantly, he knew what he _did_.

He’d never told him, it’d been years, but the time that he walked into the bathroom with Brian’s back to him was something that still kept him up at night.

He remembers the sobs, he remembers the blood.

He should’ve told someone, he thinks daily.

But he was scared.

So no.

John’s not stupid. But yes, he’s very, very scared.

Five problems, thinks the bassist as people flood the doors.

  1. Brian doesn’t get in fights
  2. Brian was bleeding
  3. Brian’s going to be alone, for a prolonged amount of time
  4. Brian’s mood had hit his its worst
  5. Roger and Freddie are going God knows where



Five options, thinks the bassist as he gets his coat from the coatrack and pushes open the back door into the cold night air.

  1. He gets Brian to leave, to go somewhere safe, and then he runs off to tell Freddie and Roger what’s happening.
  2. He tells Brian Freddie wants to talk, and then he’ll be with Freddie, and he’ll be safe.
  3. He gets into Brian’s room and just… Talks with him. Until they get on the bus tomorrow morning and leave and they can go from there.
  4. He tells Brian what he thinks is happening, and sees what happens
  5. He gets Brian to tell him what the fuck’s going on



He prays that his legs will carry him fast enough to make it on time.

 

A knock broke through the quiet room, but Brian barely heard it.

“Bri?” John’s voice was muffled through the thick door, and it made Brian’s head hurt. “Brian, it’s me. Open up.”

It wasn’t a question, which made Brian sigh heavily.

“Go away, John.” He runs a tired hand over his face. “I’m tired.”

“Brian, please.” John doesn’t want to sound like he’s begging.

Brian pulled his sleeves down over the thick gauze taped to his forearm.

“John, I-”

“Please?” It was quiet, and just broken enough to make Brian audibly sigh from behind the door.

The bed squeaked as he got up, and he did one last check in the mirror for any stray blood before moving to the door.

When Brian opened it, John looked ready to cry.

“Freddie said you left.” He breathes out, his cheeks red and nose frostbitten from the cold outside.

“And?”

“Said you were bleeding.”

That part Brian didn’t expect. He stayed quiet for a moment.

“I shouldn’t have figured he’d keep gossip to himself,” Brian’s tone is empty, and he leans against the doorway; arms crossed. He scans John wearily. “The party’s not over, why’re you here?”

Deaky looked like Brian just asked him what 1+1 was.

“You were bleeding?” Brian nods emptily, his eyes blank. “Well no one else would come check on you.”

Brian just shrugs.

“I didn’t expect them too. Told ‘em I was fine.”

“But you’re not, are you?”

Brian’s jaw tensed, and he shifted in the doorframe. His eyes were piercing now, and John felt very small.

“Go back to the party, Deaks.”

John was taken aback.

He inhaled slightly, feeling his heart tremor.

“You…” He knows it’s dangerous, but he can’t stop his mouth fast enough. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you.”

Brian’s heart dropped as his eyes widened.

“I… What? No, I just-”

“You think I don’t know what’s going on.” Nods John, putting his hands in his coat pockets and eyeing the floor.

Brian stared, open mouthed at John. He gives a breathy, scared laugh.

“N- Nothing’s going on, John, why would you-”

“Freddie thinks you got in a fight.” His eyes are watering now. “But I know that’s not the case.”

Brian doesn’t know of his mind is screaming or deafeningly quiet.

“How… How do you figure that?”

John feels a scared smile tug at his lips.

He stops himself, and realizes that this is _none_ of the plans.

A new plan, he thinks.

“You should go to the emergency room, there could still be glass in there.”

He lies.

Brian’s breathing stutters.

“What- What’dya mean?”

“You broke a glass, right?” John shakes his head, driving home his fib. “There could still be glass in the wound. You really should see a doctor.”

Brian’s mouth goes wide in shock, and John can see the moment that his heart leaps.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I- I should, shouldn’t I?”

John nods quickly.

“There’s a 24 hour ER not far from here. I’ll call you a cab?”

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, no, really, you don’t have to- I’ll get one.”

He steps out of the room, and John bites his tongue to keep from screaming.

“Tell Freddie and Roger where I’ve gone, yeah?” He asks, closing the door behind him.

John doesn’t move, watching him, making sure he knows that Brian has left.

“Of- Of course!” He nods frantically.

 As Brian turns away from him, John reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out his key card and wallet, letting the latter drop to the floor and the former slide up his sleeve.

“Oh, hey!” He calls, “Your wallet!”

He grabs the item and runs to hand it to Brian who thanks him.

He makes it all the way to the front door with Brian before waving him off.

He doesn’t think he’d ever run faster in his life than he did back to Brian’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lit - PJ


End file.
